As a matter of fact, we had felt a slight earthquakein Kosambī about a month before I left the sacred grove,and this I now told her."You see!" exclaimed the woman excitedly, "it hasbeen felt everywhere. The whole earth shook and thedrums of the gods emitted groans as the Blessèd Onewaived his claim to longer life. Ah! if that simple‐mindedĀnanda had only understood the hint so plainly given tohim! For when, wakened by the earthquake from his self‐absorption, he came back to the Master and begged thathe would consent to remain alive for the rest of this æon,the Master had of course already given his word to Māraand had renounced his claim to longer life."I could no longer bear to remain patiently underher hospitable roof as I realised I had to reach the Buddhabefore he should leave us. It had always been our onegreat comfort: that we were able to turn to him, the inex‐haustible Source of Truth. He alone could solve all thedoubts of my troubled heart; only he, of all the world, wasable to restore to me the peace which I had once tasted.So, when ten days had passed and my strengthmade travelling possible to some extent, we started out.My good hostess' conscience troubled her for allowing meto go farther in my weak condition, so I comforted herwith the promise that I would lay a greeting from her atthe feet of the Master.

We now continued our journey in a north‐westerlydirection, in the Master's footsteps, which we found themore recent the farther we were able to advance, aided bythe information gathered from place to place.In Ambagāma it was said that he been there justeight days earlier.In the Sāla grove of Bhoganagara we heard that hehad left to go to Pāvā, a mere three days before we arrivedthere.In the heat of late morning, and very tired, wereached the latter place.The first house that attracted our attention belongedto a coppersmith, as could be seen from the greatvariety of metal wares ranged along the wall. But no blowof a hammer resounded from it; the occupants seemed tobe having a holiday and at the well in the courtyard dishesand platters were being washed by the servants as thougha marriage had just taken place.

Suddenly a little man in festive garb came forwardand begged courteously to be allowed to fill our almsbowls."If you had come a few hours earlier," he added,"then I should have had two additional welcome andhonoured guests, for your Master, the Buddha, with hismonks, dined with me today.""So the Master is still here in Pāvā, then?""Not any longer, most honoured sister," answeredthe coppersmith. "Immediately after the meal the BlessèdOne was taken with a violent illness and severe pains,which brought him near to fainting, so that we were allgreatly frightened. But he rallied from the attack andstarted for Kusinārā about an hour ago."I would have preferred to go at once, for what thesmith said about this attack caused me to anticipate theworst. But it was a necessity to strengthen ourselves notonly with food, but by a short interval of rest as well.

The road from Pāvā to Kusinārā was not possiblethrough tiger‐grass and undergrowth, ever deeper into thejungle. We waded through a little river and refreshedourselves somewhat by bathing. After a few minutes'pause we started on again. Evening was approaching,however, and it was with difficulty that I managed to dragmyself farther.Medinī tried to persuade me to spend the night ona little bit of rising ground under a tree:— There was nosuch great hurry."This Kusinārā is, I expect, not much more than avillage, and seems to be quite buried in the jungle. Howcould you imagine that the Master would die here? Surelyhe will pass away some time hence in the Jetavana atSāvatthi, or in either one of the great monasteries atRājagaha; but the life of the Master will certainly not goout in this wilderness. Who has ever heard of Kusinārā?""It may be that people will hear of Kusinārā fromthis day forward," I said, and went on.But my strength was soon so terribly exhaustedthat I was forced to bring myself to climb the nearest tree‐less height in the hope of being able to see the neighbour‐hood of Kusinārā from it. If we couldn't find the village wewould be obliged to spend the night up there, where wewould be less exposed to the attacks of beasts of prey andsnakes, and would also be, to a certain extent, immunefrom such fever‐producing vapours as seem to lurk in thelower reaches of the wildwood.

Arriving at the summit we looked in vain for somesign of human dwellings. In seemingly endless successionthe slopes of the jungle rose before us, like a carpet that isgradually being drawn upward. Soon, however, tall treesto miss. It soon led us away from the cultivated fields,emerged from the low undergrowth as the swathes of mistdissolved — the thick leafy masses of a virgin forest rosedome‐like one above another, and in a dark glade foamedan unruly brook, the same stream in whose silently flowingwaters we had bathed a short time before.The whole day through, the air had been sultryand the sky overcast. Here, however, we were met by afresh breeze and the landscape grew ever clearer asthough one veil after another were being lifted before oureyes.Huge walls of rock towered skyward above thewoods; and higher yet, like a roof above them were piledgreen mountain‐tops — forest‐clad peaks they must havebeen, though they looked like so many mossy cushions —and ever higher, until they seemed to disappear into theheavens themselves.One solitary far‐stretching cloud of soft red hue —one, and one only — floated above.Even as we gazed at it this cloud began to glowstrangely. It reminded me of the past when I had seen myfather take a piece of purified gold out of the furnace withpincers and, after cooling, lay it on a background of light‐blue silk, for so did this luminous air‐picture now shineforth in sharply defined surfaces of burnished gold. Inbetween, vaporous strips of bright green deepened andshot downward in fan‐shaped patches until, becominggradually paler, they plunged into the colourless stratumof air beneath, as though desirous of reaching the verdure‐clad mountain‐tops that lay below. Ever redder grew thegolden surfaces, ever greener the shadows.That was no cloud."The Himalaya," whispered Medinī, overawed anddeeply moved as her hand tremblingly sought my arm.Yes, there it rose before us: the mountain of moun‐tains, the place of eternal snows, the abode of the gods,the resting place of the holy ones! The Himalaya — evenin childhood this name had filled me with feelings of deepfear and reverence, with a mysterious prescience of theSublime One.

How often had I heard in legends and tales thesentence — "And he betook himself to the Himalaya andlived the life of an ascetic there." Thousands upon thou‐sands had climbed those heights — seekers after liber‐ation — in order to reach eternal happiness amid theloneliness of the mountains by means of profound auster‐ities — each with their own special delusion; and now Hewas approaching — the One Being among them free fromall delusions — He whose footsteps we were following now.